One Night in Paradise by Juliet Landon

Author:Juliet Landon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2003-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

The early sun cast deep shadows across the garden and set light to canopies of diamond-dusted spiders’ webs from leaf to leaf that trembled as Adorna walked carefully past, lifting her skirts so as not to disturb them. Silently over the grassy pathway, she stalked the darting wrens and shy thrushes, always the first to begin feasting. Situated on the north side of the castle, the symmetrical beds of fragrant herbs were divided by walks that led towards a circular fountain in the centre, while the exotic birds chirping in the aviary added yet another element to the garden’s magic.

Seton hardly noticed her arrival, his head almost hidden behind a sheaf of papers that flailed the air in time to his whispered narrative. He lowered the script with a sigh as she approached, looking down at her from the high-terraced walk. ‘It’s no good,’ he said in a loud whisper. ‘It sounds worse every time I read it.’

‘How do I get up there?’ Adorna said, looking for a flight of steps.

He pointed to the far end. ‘That way. Steps. Be careful, they’re slippery.’

Joining him, she was able to see his troubled face. ‘You’ve not slept, have you?’ she said. ‘What on earth is it? You’re not usually so worried.’

‘I don’t usually perform before the Queen and her Court, do I?’ he said, wearily. ‘And these performances are so important to the earl. He’s our patron, and all this palaver is meant to impress the love of his life, you know. Nobody believes he’ll get another chance. Nor does he, either.’

‘To get her to accept him? After all these years?’ Adorna looked out across the formal, static, ordered enclosure and saw in her mind’s eye how it hid a seething mass of life, just like the Court, full of complications, competition and dependency. ‘And you want the plays to be the best ever. Yes, I can see how you think it will reflect on the earl if they’re not, but Father obviously thinks they’re acceptable.’ It was the wrong thing to say; as Master of the Revels, their father was obliged to censure everything performed before the Queen, but he was no critic of good writing.

‘I don’t want acceptable, love,’ Seton said. ‘I want brilliant.’

The silence was broken by a distant clamour of ducks out on the mere. A line of swans honked softly across the castle and disappeared.

‘Show me what’s bothering you,’ said Adorna, turning her pages.

Seton turned to the last scene. ‘I’m supposed to be the beautiful Beatrice who finally admits her love for Benedict. The trouble is, I can say it in my head as if I’m her, but I’ll never be able to say it out loud to a hundred people or more. It’s so private.’

‘It’s the loveliest part of the whole play,’ Adorna said. ‘Here, you be Benedict for a change, and I’ll be her. Let’s see if that helps.’ She pointed to the beginning of their dialogue. ‘Shall you start there?’

Seton began, unconvincingly.

And is your

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